


Stories

by AlexHunt



Series: Blades of Light and Shadows — Mal Volari x Daenarya [14]
Category: Blades of Light and Shadow (Visual Novel), Choices - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Pain, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexHunt/pseuds/AlexHunt
Summary: Mal confides in Daenarya about one of his scars. (I wouldn't classify this as "graphic violence" but I tagged it just in case)
Relationships: Mal Volari/Daenarya, Mal Volari/Main Character (Blades of Light and Shadow)
Series: Blades of Light and Shadows — Mal Volari x Daenarya [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820410
Kudos: 9





	Stories

_This takes place before Chapter 14 but after my drabbles when Daenarya first sees how many scars Mal truly has,[Join Me? / **/ For Warmth // Not Enough**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498656)_

**[*Mal with Scars Edit](https://storyofmychoices.tumblr.com/post/616772620203032576/my-head-canon-has-always-been-mal-having-a-lot-of) **

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Daenarya’s fingers lightly traced over a lengthy scar on his arms. It was older and had long since faded into his bronzed skin, leaving behind a darkened reminder of whatever danger he had faced. Ever since that day by the river, she had spent her time in his arms just before falling asleep hoping that one day he would let her in and share his pain. 

Her lips brushed gently over the mark. Her warm breath lingering on his exposed skin.

He shivered beneath her touch, inhaling quickly at her tenderness. “Daeny.”

“When you’re ready...” Daenarya whispered. Her longing gaze met his. She saw the pain he carried behind his self-assured eyes a little more each day as he slowly lowered his guard. “...I'm here."

“Not all of my stories are about Contessas.” Mal winked with a satisfied smirk that even he knew fell short. He used to be so good at that, but with her, it was different. He shrugged, “the hazards of traveling alone. No one to watch your back.” 

“You’re not alone anymore.” Her fingers sketched over the scar once more. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“All journey’s end. For better or worse, this one will too.” He placed his hand over hers, taking it in his own. 

“Just because the journey ends doesn’t mean you’ll be alone,” she responded, her eyes wide looking up at him. The thought of leaving him was too much to bear. 

Mal brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. He knew better than the rest of the group, the perils of getting attached, and yet he let it happen anyway. For the first time in a very long time, he had someone he didn’t want to lose. Hell, he had even grown attached to the rest of the sorry lot; he would fight his own need to run, to stand beside them when the time came—even with that condescending house cat. He thought back to all the dark corners he had narrowly escaped from, all of them leaving their marks, even if not all visible. 

She leaned up kissing him softly. Her lips rested on his, not wanting to leave. Her body relaxed into his embrace, leaving her feeling safer than she ever had before.

His arms wrapped protectively around her when she finally pulled back, settling against his bare chest. His hand combed through her hair and caressed her back.

Even with her eyes closed, her fingertips seemed to find his scars. The memories no longer flooded his senses the moment her electric touch brushed over them. She had a way of creating new memories where old pains lied. 

Mal leaned over kissing the top of her head. Letting the woodsy scent in her hair fill him. He listened to the steady sound of her breathing as they both drew nearer to sleep. It was time. His fingers beside hers traced along a ragged scar near the top of his chest. 

“I was on the hunt for an Elven emerald for a White Tower Count,” Mal started with a deep breath. He had so many stories, and none of them had he shared with anyone before. But she wasn’t just anyone. She had seen him in a way no one else had. “He failed to mention that I was not the only treasure hunter he had employed.” 

She could feel his muscles contracting beneath her. She fought against herself, wanting to turn into him, meeting his gaze to promise him it was okay. That he was safe with her, but she didn’t. She waited patiently, continuing to caress his chest, letting him decide when and if he was ready to continue.

“Turns out, the damn bastard never wanted the gem. He wanted us to fight each other for sport while trying to retrieve it,” he growled, his heart breathing faster as his mind drifted back. “I had just secured the stone and tucked it safely in my pack… I didn’t hear him behind me, but when I turned around, there he was—another treasure hunter. It was a cheap shot. His dull blade punched through my skin, knocking me back. I could feel my flesh tearing as he smiled smugly, thinking he could win so easily. At the time, the adrenaline of the moment numbed the pain. I didn’t even realize how deep the wound cut until I felt my shirt becoming heavier with blood. We fought over that stone… that worthless stone… we didn’t know until it was too late we were working for the same man.”

“What happened?” she whispered, risking it to look at him. His furrowed brow and the fire in his eyes reflected the anger in his voice. 

“It was him or me, Kit,” he admitted reluctantly, biting back the bitterness of the memory. 

She understood, giving him a reassuring nod. “And the emerald? Did you return it after everything?”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. He had guards following our movements to report back to him. I had attempted to leave with it when I was caught…I handed the stone over to them and they laughed... they tossed it in the dirt... It wasn’t even real. It was all part of his game. They tossed a bag of coins at my feet. I was nothing to them,” he shook his head. His grasp on her tightened as he fought his frustration. “I almost died for some fucking rich bastard’s entertainment.” 

“Mal.” His name was all she could manage. She couldn’t fathom that someone could do that. 

After a few moments, his gaze softened; his fingers curling in her hair reminded him of where he was now. 

“Thank you.” Daenarya pressed a string of feather-light kisses over the scar in question. 

They laid wordlessly, wrapped in the warmth and security of each other’s arms until sleep overtook them. Mal slept a little easier that night, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.


End file.
